A bunch of hands flew up. A woman in the front answered, “On the train, delivered from my iPhone, and Adele.”
A male student responded, “I work at Madison Square Garden, so I get a lot of live music delivered at work. Last jam was Maroon 5 warming up.”
The lecture hall had two sets of stairs, one on either side of the wide middle row of seats. I was sitting at the top, in an aisle seat next to the left staircase. Caine walked up a few steps at a time, taking responses from different students as he went.
A few rows ahead of me, a guy with a long beard said, “In the truck. I work for UPS and listen through an aux cord. Last night was an old Slayer album.”
A woman on the opposite side of the stairs said, “At work. It’s piped in at the doctor’s office where I work as a receptionist. And it’s the same instrumental music over and over.”
“Seems like most people are getting their music delivered while traveling or at work. Anyone listen while doing anything else?” Caine walked up a few more stairs and stopped two below where I was seated. It gave me the perfect excuse to look at him, without overtly appearing to check him out. He spoke to another nearby student as I ogled.
Today he wore a dark suit vest buttoned over a white, textured dress shirt, sans tie. I wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but I knew expensive clothing when I saw it, and Caine shelled out more for his dress shirts than I did for most of my complete outfits. He had a rich elegance about him, even though he’d paired the shirt and vest with a pair of jeans and black chucks. His skin was naturally sun-kissed, so I was reasonably certain he was European in descent—perhaps Greek or Italian. I couldn’t quite place which, but whatever it was, it produced one hell of a chiseled man. His nose was straight and masculine, and from a profile view was as damn close to perfect as I’d ever seen. From the side, his dark lashes were magnificent. Any woman would pay a small fortune for the lushness that framed those chocolate-colored eyes. His jaw line was peppered with fresh stubble, and I found myself wondering what that might feel like against my skin. I was lost in that thought when I realized he was now looking right at me. He squinted, and I saw a hint of amusement in his eyes, even though he didn’t smile.
When he took another step up, I tried to seem nonchalant, as if I hadn’t been worshiping his ancestors, and looked forward—only to realize I was now perfectly aligned to stare at his crotch. I attempted to find somewhere else to put my eyes, but—was that...was that something in his pocket...or…? By the outline, I was pretty sure it wasn’t something. Or actually it was something—something damn impressive.
Caine twisted at the waist to call on a woman on the other side of the stairs, and his jeans pulled more snugly, confirming exactly what I was looking at. Figures the gorgeous man also had a big dick. I turned my head, needing to look away from his thick bulge, and beanie artist gave me a flirty smile. I smiled back…right before Caine called on him.
Beanie artist was the first student the professor called on who hadn’t volunteered by holding up his hand. Maybe he’d caught what the guy was doing and decided to bring him back into the fold of the class.
“What about you?” Caine’s voice was curt. “What was the last song you listened to, and how was it delivered?”
The guy smirked. “Some Pharrell, delivered from my Bose speakers in my bedroom while I was getting it on.”
The class snickered.
“Thank you, Mr.…”
Caine held out his hand to invite the man to fill in the blank, and he did. “Ludwig.”
Caine nodded and turned to head back to the front of the class. “All the examples today are appreciative listening. Before the next class, I want each of you to download Jason Derulo’s ‘Trumpets’.” Listen to it using whatever method you last appreciatively listened to music—with your headset on, while commuting on the train, in the truck while you’re working delivering packages, or, in Mr. Ludwig’s case, listening on his Bose at home while masturbating.”
The class cracked up.
“When you’re done, I want you to answer the questions on this page.” Caine began to hand out papers for the students in the first row to pass back. “This isn’t a test of any kind, so your answers should be honest. Don’t read the questions on the paper until after you’ve listened to the song once. Otherwise, your brain will be searching for the answers as you listen instead of truly appreciatively listening. In our next class, we’re going to compare the results you get with the results you’ll get while doing other types of listening.”
A few minutes later, the hour and a half class was over, and students piled out the door. I waited until the room had emptied and went down the stairs to the front to talk to Caine.
“On time and no stains on your clothing,” he said as he packed his laptop without looking up. “Impressive.”
“I’ve always considered fourth impressions the most important, you know.” I smiled.
Caine zipped his bag. While I’d thought our conversation was playful, apparently I was wrong. His tone was stern, and he leveled me with a look that matched. “You shouldn’t fraternize with students.”
“Fraternize?”
“Whatever you want to call it.”
“I don’t understand.”
He huffed. “Fuck. You shouldn’t fuck the students. Is that clearer, Rachel?”
“Well, yes, it’s clear what you meant now. But I’m not sure what would give you the impression I was screwing a student. I don’t sleep with college guys.”
“Does Mr. Ludwig know that?”
I had a feeling that’s what this was about. “You don’t need to worry about me giving anyone a preferential grade like your last TA. I promise.”
Caine held my gaze for a few seconds, possibly assessing my sincerity, then gave me a curt nod. “So, which princess is it?”
I furrowed my brows. Then I realized he must’ve caught the quiz I was doing in the back of In Style magazine before class began—Which Disney Princess are you? I’d tossed it on top of my book bag on the floor once class began.
“Jasmine from Aladdin.” I smiled.
“They get it right?”
“I like to think so. Jasmine is logical and skeptical.”
“You know those things are a bunch of crap, right?”
“God, I hope so. Last month I took one in Men’s Health called How healthy are your testicles?, and it wasn’t looking very good for me.”
Caine’s lip twitched. “Wiseass. You ready to finish going through the syllabus?”
“I have about an hour before I have to get to work.”
He lifted his bag from the desk. “Everything go okay with picking up your car?”
“Actually…no.”
“What happened?”
“When they took off the tire, they found my ball joints were bad—whatever they are. They’re replacing those, too, today.”
“You need a ride to work?”
“I can take the bus. There’s one right on campus that drops off two blocks from O’Leary’s.”
“I was going to suggest grabbing a bite while we finish up planning. I have a department meeting tonight and need to eat before then. Why don’t we grab a bite at O’Leary’s? Then you’ll already be at work when it’s time to start your shift.”
“That would be great. And I’ll treat.” I grinned. “Since our food will be free and all.”
“Looks like someone went to the supermarket?” Charlie looked over my shoulder at Caine standing behind me.
“Umm…no. This is Professor Caine West. I’m his teaching assistant at the music conservatory. Caine, this is Charlie. He owns O’Leary’s.”
Caine reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
Charlie shook. “You got a record, Professor?”
“A record?”
“Yeah. I don’t like my girl hanging out with trouble.”
I piped in. “Charlie—he’s my professor. I don’t think an interrogation is necessary.”